


To soil so rich

by Subtle_Shenanigans



Series: To Wander [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Fantasy, Gen, Kinda, Not accurate plague doctor, OC, Original work - Freeform, Plague Doctor - Freeform, but not all uses, creature based loosely off the concept, do not repost to another site, herbs, look I know names of herbs, no beta we die like men, persona?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:15:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23888827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Subtle_Shenanigans/pseuds/Subtle_Shenanigans
Summary: “Out of the Woods,Into the fields,Wanderer, wandering, wanders.To soil so rich and fine as this,Bestow thy flowerAs a good-bye kiss.”~Latter section of the gardener’s song
Series: To Wander [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1725868
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	To soil so rich

**Author's Note:**

> Look I’ve been loving the Plague Doctor aesthetic going around so I was like, “why not?” Obviously with a twist since humans (besides Ander’s branches off species) don’t really exist. It’s mostly anthro animals. So these are. . .their own class of beings I guess??
> 
> This is also a playoff of a distorted version of the plague doctors - imagine it being an adopted image in a post-dystopian era (not even post apocalyptic; there’s no government in this universe, more of tribes with leaders, but generally everyone is just. Doing whatever.) So it’s not an accurate depiction.
> 
> Anyways still sick, but doing okay. Mostly just tired. Hope you all are staying safe during this time!

It was probably not long after the stab wounds had closed up, that The Wanderer came across it.

The newly acquired fox cub had bristled and warily yipped, skipping back to their side and twining around one leg. They picked him up, snuggling him in their long coat.

The woods had fallen behind them for a wayward field, with tallish grasses and weeds, yellow and white flowers dotted throughout. Their was a house off of the overgrown dirt path; it was wooden, and old. Some of the boards warped, and paint long faded and chipping.

There was something in the overgrown garden, humming.

Ander approaches cautiously. As they grew closer, they could see that the actual yard had garden boxes, with carefully tended plants.

The being that tended them was faded ebony, like a pale shadow. It glanced up as they drew close, and Ander saw its face was creamy white, beaked; it’s eyes were flat glass, dark. Were they green, or red, or purple?

“Hullo!” The voice was muffled, and hollow in one. Was this being *in hide?

It(?) stood, wiping its hands off. The dirt fell easily. It was tall, and slender - though not much taller than Ander themself.

“What brings such ones to the humble home of Borage?”

“Passing by, is all.” They don’t find Borage dangerous, but one never knows.

The fox cub wriggles in their arms, uncomfortable, but isn’t yapping, so they’ll take that as a good sign.

It - they? he? she? - nods. “Yes, not many do, anymore. Last ones I’ve seen gone to soil.”

They refuse to flinch back. “From?”

It gestures. “Came this way, the miasma clinging to them with rot and flies. “

“So sickness?”

It stares at them, then tilts its head. “P’rhaps. I did not examine. My tending is merely for my garden.” It pauses again, and then laughs. “You didnst- do not believe that _I_ \- what wild thought!” It throws its head back, laughing harder.

It’s not exactly reassuring, but Ander doesn’t hurry to leave, either.

It calms, wipes at its eyes it cannot reach and leaves smears of dirt on its mask. “Such wary child! Forgive my surprise. I but garden,” Borage makes a sweeping gesture to the flowers - purples and indigos, some yellows and pale reds. “True, though, I have found left-out carcasses and used them for my soil so rich. But I am not of mind to kill.”

“Then what do you eat, the plants?” They can’t help but ask. The fox cub settles down and huffs.

It stares once more. Then taps its beak. “I breathe.”

It makes no sense to Ander - until Borage comes closer, and they can smell the faint fragrance wafting from their mask.

“Apologies for assumptions.”

It withdraws, back to its garden. “No apologies needed, oh Wanderer.” Borage pats the soil around one of its plants, before gently breaking off a flower. With gentleness, it holds it by the stem and then hands it to them.

“Here - a gift for a misunderstanding. Not many stop by to speak to one such as I, and I know I can be a frightening sight.”

It sets the pale, purple bloom delicately in their hand; the gloves are an old texture against their skin. It withdraws quickly as it came.

Strolling back to its garden, it merely says, “For Courage, one day needed - it is my namesake.” Borage waves without turning. “Fare ye well!”

It goes back to gardening, humming its song once more, as though they aren’t there. Bemused, The Wander continues on, fox cub in one arm, and a twirling a flower in the other hand.

**Author's Note:**

>  ***In hide** : A common term used to describe creatures that dress up in a way to hide their species. Not common but not rare.


End file.
